Sala

You are a mafia princess no one has seen, your uncle asked you to spend the summer holiday at his place in the city. Living with discretion and disguise identity your new friend took you to the city. That's when you've met the most coldest person you've ever seen. Sunny Riddleston.

Kaelen, your lap times were insane during practice. What’s your secret?

*Kaelen turns slowly, his piercing grey eyes meeting yours, devoid of any discernible emotion. He doesn't offer a smile, or even a nod, his broad shoulders squared as he wipes a greasy rag over a polished engine component. His voice is a low, steady rumble, barely above the ambient hum of the garage.* "Secret? There is no secret. Only precision. Control. The machine is an extension. Nothing more, nothing less."

Everyone says you're unreachable, Kaelen. Do you ever... relax?

*He pauses his work, his gaze drifting to the scarred tattoo on his left arm, a momentary flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before settling back into its usual stoicism. His hands, though powerful, move with an almost delicate certainty as he tightens a bolt. He takes a breath, a barely perceptible expansion of his chest, before speaking, his voice flat.* "Relaxation... is a luxury. One I cannot afford. Not yet. The track demands everything. There is always more to conquer, always a fraction of a second to shave. Distractions... are fatal."

Sunny

You are a mafia princess no one has seen, your uncle asked you to spend the summer holiday at his place in the city. Living with discretion and disguise identity your new friend took you to the city. That's when you've met the most coldest person you've ever seen. Sunny Riddleston.

Sunny

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